Vivacious, vivid, vibrant cotton like trees almost broke the evening sky as they looked down on the scattered fungi umbrellas that poked up from wild emerald grass, growing askew in heightened patches of jade. The beauty of the forest never ceased to amaze me.
I ran along a fortified pebble path with my moccasin boots. They were my compass, my navigation, and my most trusted guide. I tightened my grip on the large brown knapsack that I had slung back behind my shoulder, approaching closer and closer to the rendezvous, reassuring myself that the bag would blend right in with the dirty bark of the forest trees. A skinny ravine came into sight and I examined the miniature waves that rushed through the water, each one toppling over the other, a race to get to the nonexistent finish. My feet stopped running, and I looked around, soaking in the senses that surrounded me. The air tasted like fresh spring water, created by the heavy dew of the grey rain clouds that loomed in the thick atmosphere. I stopped to catch my breath, but realized there was nothing to catch; I had sprinted along that path too many times to be out of breath anymore. Running for me had almost become a leisurely stroll.
I walked over to the caramel oak tree to the right of the ravine and sat down at its trunk. I put my clunky brown sack into a crevice created by two outgrown roots and then nestled myself into a dirt crusted crook.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” a voice said from behind me.
A tall figure came into view, his long brown hair falling into his face as he maneuvered through the oak tree’s maze of roots.
“Hunter!” I said, my heart starting to pound. “You scared me.”
“I scared you?” Hunter said, reaching up to latch onto a low branch while he leaned in towards me. “That must be a first.”
I smiled and shook my head, fighting the impulse to get up and throw my arms around his skinny figure. He was dressed in maroon rag-like clothing and still carried a distinctive soapy scent, so clean and refreshing.
“You’ve changed.” My words were hesitant and broken as they came out, like they had over boiled in my mouth.
I had been waiting to say them for so long.
“So have you.” He reached out and felt my frizzy yellow hair. 
We looked at each other for a moment, mesmerized by the mere sight of one another’s presence. The stare wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward or even passionate. Instead, it embodied a sort of appreciation - an understanding between two acquaintances who happened to be more than just childhood friends.
I broke the gaze, looking down to pull my knapsack onto my lap. I rummaged through the crowded bag, full of all of my vital belongings, and pulled out a brown leather bound book. It was no larger than a child’s story book, non-threatening, but still intriguing enough to award a second glance.    
“Is that it?” Hunter swung on the branch he was still holding on to and sat down next to me.
I nodded, handing him the book and he flipped through it, exploring the handwritten ink capped pages, the ink still smudging on the substandard free drawn sketches. He slowly turned through the chapters.
I held my breath as he looked through it, waiting for him to look up and bob his head in approval or grin with the everlasting twinkle in his eyes. At last he spoke, never looking up from the book, “This is why you called me here, right?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “I need you to take this back to the village.”
He nodded, still engrossed in the book, rubbing his finger along my ink blotted thoughts written in loopy cursive. “How did you come up with this?”
“I just combined the inverted truth with some fictional details that made it more interesting.” I looked right at his face, pleading him to look up from the book. “You know, like what we used to do when we were younger.”
“And what about this evil queen character? Where did you come up with that?” He still didn’t look up.
“Well,” I said and shifted in my makeshift seat, “some things from the story are actually true.”
Hunter brought his head up very slowly and looked ahead at the rich and beautiful sunset, lowering the book into his lap. He took his right hand and cupped his forehead, shaking it from side to side. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.” He was barely audible.
I still sat there, staring at the side of his face, trying to count the number of orange dotted freckles he had on his right cheek. His eyes still refused to look my direction. “It wasn’t your fault,” I said, the words coming out quieter than anticipated.
“I never got the proper chance to say it.” Hunter uncovered his face and started to grip the book with both hands, kneading the paper in anxiety. “I can’t believe it has only been four years.” Hunter still didn’t look up. “Your mom was the one thing that kept this kingdom from collapsing under its feet.” 
I paused, wanting to change the subject, but never knowing what to say. “It seems like it has been an eternity.”
He still held a tight grip to the leather bound book, his eyes were so focused on the cream colored pages, as if he were guarding the most precious jewel in the kingdom. “Your dad was never the same.”
A small lump began to form in the back of my throat. I fought the urge to get up and run as fast as I could in the other direction, trying to find the right words to say.
“That’s why I have to leave.” My tone was desperate. “My mom always told me how much she wanted me to experience the outside world. I have to explore and help people outside of these walls, for both of us. You understand right?” I said, leaning closer to him. “If I stay here I will never be able to live.”
“Yes, but if you leave none of us will be able to live.” he said to the air in front of him, still calm and collected as he tilted his head up to the sky, taking a deep breath.  
I closed my eyes tight, trying to ward off all of my emotions, pleading for the lump in my throat to dissipate.
I told myself that I wasn’t going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said, returning to the book as I opened my eyes, “that was uncalled for.” He cleared his throat and continued, “What’s next?”
I swallowed hard, and tried to massage my throat, petrified that my voice would be shaky and off-pitch. “Take it back to the village and tell them that it’s my parting gift. They will read it and know they can’t trust my dad’s new wife.” My pitch changed to an anxious squeal. “And then, hopefully, they will understand why I have to leave.
He turned the page again, stumbling upon a pencil sketched picture of a young woman with short dark hair and a long colorful dress. I imagined her as I always did when I looked at that picture. She was radiant and thankful, using her life to help others - with ideas in her head and a smile on her face. She was the girl I had always wanted to become. With one last look, he shut the novel with a clap and turned it over in his hands several times.
All of a sudden, Hunter looked up right at me with his glistening melancholy eyes, and took my hands into his.  “I just wish you didn’t have to go.” He smiled, a genuine one, throwing my mind in a hundred different directions.
He looked at me for a second, his eyes sporting sagging black bags of exhaustion, and, even though his voice had dropped an octave and he had grown two feet, they were the same big boyish eyes that he had when I left. The only other pair of eyes in the world that could see the all of the thrilling adventures we had gone on, the only other pair of eyes that saw the fantasy world we had created with our imaginations.
His face slipped into a smile one last time and then it sagged back down into a straight line, not a scowl, a line of indifference. He stood up, breaking the eye contact, leaving me dazed and light headed, my brain throbbing as if my eardrums had been blasted with loud booming music. I watched Hunter as he reached down and picked up the brown leather book from the dirt and grass blended floor. He nodded his head towards me and held it up. “I’ll take this back to town.” He fixed his jacket and slipped the book in between his arm and stomach. 
I blindly looked in his direction for a moment, my vision was split into two, blurred like a reflection on a pool of water. I started to nod as I got up, slinging my brown knapsack onto my back. I looked down at my hand and realized that it was shaking. I continued to look down at my feet and legs and found that it was not only my hand, but my whole body that was twitching and trembling, like I had just jumped head first into an ocean of ice water. I turned around, away from the boy, and felt cold beads of water start to fall from my stinging eyes.
Without even thinking I started to run.
Back the way that I had come, my feet navigating the way, which was the only part of my body that was actually escaping. My brain was sitting back at the oak tree. My heart is still buried at my mother’s grave. But my soul is hidden wherever my journey takes me.  
“Wait!” I heard someone let out a desperate cry.
My feet stopped short, almost making the rest of my body fling forward onto the sticky emerald grass. I kept my eyes on the path in front of me, knowing that if I looked back I would be compelled to stay.
“What is the book supposed to be called?” Hunter shouted.
I looked up into the burgundy yellow speckled sunset lighting the forest that would carry me to my new home. I reached up and tucked my long, bright golden hair behind my ears as my feet prepared to break into a sprint. I spoke confidently into the vast forest.
“Snow White.”